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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375201">polyphony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsomething/pseuds/somethingsomething'>somethingsomething</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Multi, Music, Religion, Team as Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:47:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25375201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsomething/pseuds/somethingsomething</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re in Santiago when Nicky taps a rhythm against the body of his rifle.  Joe notices because, well.  He always notices.  He just doesn’t think anything of it beyond Nicky’s fingers, meditating on their work.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolo di Genova &amp; Andy | Andromache the Scythian &amp; Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>799</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>polyphony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Proudly sponsored by too much time on my hands, and the idea that, if you're 1,000+ years old, what do you do if you get a song stuck in your head that no one else alive remembers?</p>
<p>I cannot BELIEVE I am posting fic in the year 2020.  Written in one sitting, after not writing for, uh.  Three years.  I just loved this movie that much.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’re in Santiago when Nicky taps a rhythm against the body of his rifle.  Joe notices because, well.  He always notices.  He just doesn’t think anything of it beyond Nicky’s fingers, meditating on their work.</p>
<p>Nile says something to Andy over the comms, and Joe turns away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nicky starts humming that Thursday.</p>
<p>He’s cleaning their guns while Andy teaches Nile to sharpen the axe with a whetstone.  The sounds of sharpening a blade are one of the few things to remain, even after all this time.</p>
<p>Joe cooked dinner <i>and</i> cleaned after.  He’s free of weapons maintenance tonight.  Instead, he’s on the lone armchair, flipping through a book he’s barely reading.</p>
<p>It’s quiet, just the click of the guns and the scrape of the whetstone.  Andy corrects Nile’s angle with just her fingertips against her wrist, has her add more honing oil with the touch to the back of her hand.</p>
<p>Then – </p>
<p>“What’s that, the new Lady Gaga song?” Nile asks.</p>
<p>Nicky stops humming and looks up.  “Lady who?”</p>
<p>Nile’s face wrinkles, like she can’t decide if she’s being teased or not.  Andy just looks back and forth between them.</p>
<p>“Lady Gaga?” Nile says.</p>
<p>Nicky just frowns.  Nile looks at Andy, who just smiles and leans back.  Nile turns to Joe.  She’s settled on looking confused.</p>
<p>Joe laughs.  “Nicky has not paid attention to music, since, oh when was it my love?”  He grins at Nicky, who just scowls.</p>
<p>“It was <i>perfectly fine</i> and then they <i>changed it</i> and now nothing has been the same,” he says.</p>
<p>Nile frowns harder.  “You’re mad at…music?”</p>
<p>Joe laughs again.  Even Andy smiles.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Nicky says.  His face softens as he sighs.  “They added harmony in the 1600s.  It is fine.”  He waves a hand in dismissal and goes back to the guns.</p>
<p>“Wait so what were you humming then?” Nile asks.</p>
<p>Joe’s smile starts to slide off his face.  Faint dread starts to prickle along his scalp.</p>
<p>Nicky looks up again and grimaces.  “I don’t remember it all.”</p>
<p>Joe groans and falls back against his chair.  Andy’s mouth quirks in a quick frown.  “Sucks, Nicky,” she says.</p>
<p>Nile looks around at all them.  “You’ve got a song stuck in your head?”</p>
<p>Nicky nods solemnly, lips pressed together.  The last time he’d looked so serious, he and Joe had just finished the very last bottle of their favorite vintage from a small family vineyard along the Elbe.  The vineyard had been closed for forty years by that point.</p>
<p>Joe groans again and covers his eyes with his hands.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Nicky says.  “But I think…it is a love song, from, ah, what do you think Joe, 1344?”  He hums a few bars.</p>
<p>Joe seriously considers sliding from his chair onto the floor.  “Maybe one of those satires you loved so much,” he says.  Better to save his dramatics for now.</p>
<p>Andy smiles at them, Joe can hear it in her voice.  “Best to brace yourself now, Nile,” she says.  “It’s going to be a long week.”</p>
<p>Joe drags his hands down face enough so that he can open his eyes.  Nile looks the same as she did that first night she met them.  Like she had stepped through to a parallel universe and was looking for an exit sign.</p>
<p>“Brace myself?” she says, “For a week?”</p>
<p>Andy laughs.  Joe rolls over to bury his face in the chair arm.  He’ll pace his dramatics later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re in Vancouver by Saturday.  It’s cold and overcast as they move through downtown with coffee and pastries.  Joe can see Nicky’s breath rise as he hums the same bars over and over.  The little clouds look almost like notes.</p>
<p>“Maybe you need to listen to a different song,” Nile says.</p>
<p>Nicky sighs.  “No, it will not be the same,” he says.  He buries his face closer to his coffee.</p>
<p>“They say you’re to listen to the song stuck in your head, until it becomes unstuck.  The problem,” he says as he lowers his coffee cup, “is that nothing sounds the same.  Music has changed and much of what was played in the churches and courts and bars is lost to us.  The things we remember are not always remembered by the rest of history.”  He shrugs.  The corners of his eyes pinch, just a little.  “Someone will try to kills us in a few days, and I will forget this song.  We will move on.”</p>
<p>Joe frowns, but Nicky doesn’t say anything else.  These reminders of times long gone stick to them in ways they can’t always predict.  More often than not, they stick it out until the little hurts heal over until the next half-forgotten memory pops up.</p>
<p>Joe looks at Nile.  She’s staring at the ground in front of her shoes, tapping her fingers against her coffee.</p>
<p>They keep walking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joe wakes up in the middle of the night.  He listens, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing steady.  It’s quiet, except for the water against the cliffs.  Nicky sleeps soundly against Joe’s front, Nile and Andy quiet on the other side of the room.</p>
<p>The weather has been considering spring here in Latvia, but the nights are still cold.</p>
<p>Nicky hums a little in his sleep.</p>
<p>Joe sighs and presses his face between Nicky’s shoulder blades.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Joe does not keep track of the Christian calendar as a rule.  He knows the rhythm of it, but he leaves knowing the dates up to Nicky.</p>
<p>“We’re close to Italy this spring,” Nicky says.  It’s just him and Joe in the safe house, Poland now.  The weather’s slow turn to spring is the same as it was in Latvia.  They’re sitting together on the couch in the makeshift living room.  Nicky hasn’t hummed a note in nearly a month.</p>
<p>“<i>Si</i>,” Joe says.  He grins at Nicky.</p>
<p>Nicky rolls his eyes and smiles.  His eyes crinkle, eight wrinkles to each side.  Joe has counted them so many times.</p>
<p>“I was thinking I’d take Nile, for Easter,” Nicky says.  He sets his fingers into Joe’s curls.  He’s careful not to stretch them.</p>
<p>Joe looks at Nicky.  “You haven’t been to Mass in a long time,” he says.</p>
<p>Nicky’s smile eases.  He shrugs.  “Nile is not Catholic, but I.  I miss it.  Mama loved the Easter hymns the best.  Nile has reminded me.”</p>
<p>Joe smiles.  He takes both of Nicky’s hands in his and presses a kiss to each palm.  “Perhaps she knew,” he says.</p>
<p>Nicky looks up into the distance, then back at Joe.  “Perhaps,” he says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They make it to northern Italy in time for Nile and Nicky’s Easter Sunday.  They stay in a smaller city in Lombardia, a place small enough Joe doubts it’s really a city.  But then, ideas of what makes a city not a town change so often.  They’re only here for the one night.</p>
<p>Andy and Joe stay out too late the night before and sleep in.  By the time they wake up, they have fifteen minutes before they’re meant to meet Nile and Nicky at a nearby café.</p>
<p>Nile and Nicky arrive late, laughing at Andy and Joe’s hangovers.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” Joe says.  He cradles his coffee to his chest.  “You are newly blessed and holy, above such mundanities as hangovers.”</p>
<p>Nicky kisses the top Joe’s head.  “Old dogs can still learn new tricks,” he says.  He moves around the table to kiss Andy’s head, then Nile’s too, for good measure.</p>
<p>Andy and Nile laugh as Joe pouts.</p>
<p>“How was it?” Andy asks.</p>
<p>Nile’s eyes shine.  So much is still new and wonderful for her.  “It was beautiful.  The church was beautiful, and the hymns were amazing.  It’s different than back home, but I get it,” she says to Nicky.  He smiles at her.  “It sounds different.  You can hear it, all that time, all those people.”</p>
<p>“Next time we are in the U.S., you will have to take me to a service like yours,” he says.  He puts his hand in Joe’s.  It is the most settled Joe has seen him in weeks.  “I want to hear it.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Nile says, grinning, “you’re on.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They move on to Auckland for part of the summer.  It’s cool again, but at least Joe can’t see his breath in the mornings.</p>
<p>“So do none of you really listen to music?” Nile asks one afternoon.</p>
<p>Joe looks at her, eyebrows raised.  He was distracted by Andy and Nicky sparring across the yard of the abandoned farm they’re hiding at.</p>
<p>“Ah,” he says.  His eyebrows furrow.  “It is different for each of us.  Andy did not have music the same way Nicky and I did.  And it has been so long for her, so many different songs and people.  She does have strong opinions about theater, though.”  Nile laughs at that, and Joe nudges her with his elbow.  He looks back at Andy and Nicky.  “For me…watching art, all art, evolve to show what we think and love and fear has been one of the greatest blessings.  Every century has brought new ways to kill each other, to fight over the same things.  But the centuries have given us new ways to love, to understand, to see.  It’s as if everything we feel is too big for just our words.  We are always striving for a way to make ourselves heard, in any way imaginable.  And it echoes.  Everything I see today, I have seen in Nicky and Andy and more.”</p>
<p>He looks back at Nile.  She’s watching Andy and Nicky, but her eyes look wet.  She blinks and clears her throat.  “Yeah,” she says.</p>
<p>Joe breathes in.  He and Nile lean against each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re in Germany, outside Düsseldorf, and the fall air is crisp.  Andy sits at the kitchen table with a tablet from Copley.  Nicky is cooking, and Joe is conserving his energy to wash the one hundred and thirty-three pots and pans Nicky insists on cooking with.  They travel so light.  There are always so many dishes.</p>
<p>Nile bursts into the house, the door banging open.  She blinks at the weapons they pull on her and says, “Right.”  She looks up at them.  “I have something for you guys.”</p>
<p>Andy sighs.  “Be more careful, kid,” she says, and puts her gun away as she sits.  Nicky goes back to chopping vegetables instead of intruders.</p>
<p>Joe never stood up, but he keeps his gun out for another second, just in case.  No one comes in after Nile.  He puts the gun back in its rack under the table.</p>
<p>Nile nods and comes to the table.  “Right.  Anyway, here it is.” She sets her backpack on the table and pulls out a small speaker and an older iPod.  “Copely helped me, so I didn’t leave any trails while I put this together.”</p>
<p>They’re all watching her as she turns the iPod and speaker on and connects them.  Even Nicky has set dinner aside for now, though he’s being nosy and poking through the rest of Nile’s bag.  Andy’s closest, and she swats at his hands.</p>
<p>Nile presses play on the iPod.  Nile lets it play a few seconds of a song before she clicks through to the next, then the next, then the next.  Joe listens to the simple music, sparse percussion, all those voices singing the same words.  There are memories there, his and Nicky’s and Andy’s.</p>
<p>“Oh, Nile,” Nicky says.  He wraps her in a hug.  Joe’s eyes sting.  Andy blinks several times.</p>
<p>“It’s kind of a sampler of everything,” Nile says when Nicky lets her go.  “I started in the middle here.  If you play it in order, it’ll go from Hurrian Hymn No. 6 all the way to Beyoncé, in order.  I put an emphasis on the medieval stuff, with some covers.  The ‘Jolene’ cover is pretty good.  And I made sure that each time period covers everything we could find – the Americas, Australia, the Middle East, Asia, everything.”</p>
<p>Joe could not pick some of those people out of a crowd, but he’s willing to learn.  “Thank you, Nile,” he says and hugs her.</p>
<p>He looks at Nicky over Nile’s head.  He’s staring at both of them in wonderment.</p>
<p>Joe lets Nile go, and Andy steps up.  “Good job, kid,” she says.  Nile folds into her, face to Andy’s chest, Andy’s face in Nile’s hair.</p>
<p>“Just so y’all know, you’re all required to listen to all of the Frank Ocean and like it,” Nile says, muffled against Andy.  They all laugh.</p>
<p>Joe’s heart feels full, fuller than it has in a long time.  He goes to hold onto Nicky, but first – </p>
<p>“And wine?  You’re too good to us, Nile,” Joe says, reaching into Nile’s backpack.  No wonder Nicky was so nosy.  Joe pulls out the bottle and reads the label.  He laughs and shows the bottle to Nicky.</p>
<p>Nicky laughs and starts babbling in Italian.  He hugs Nile and Andy.  Joe can barely hear them over the sound of his own laughter.</p>
<p>He and Nicky finally quiet, and Nicky lets Andy and Nile go.  Nile looks, perhaps, the most confused she has in nearly an entire year with them.</p>
<p>“What?” she asks.</p>
<p>Joe shakes his head and goes to open the wine.  “This was our favorite winery.  It closed maybe a hundred years ago.  In the meantime, someone has turned it back into a vineyard.  Truly,” he says, tipping the bottle towards Nile, “you are the gift that keeps on giving.”</p>
<p>Nile beams at them all.  Andy looks.  Andy looks happy, to be with them, to be at this moment in time.  Nicky looks resplendent in his joy.</p>
<p>Joe pours each of them a glass and they raise them.  “To family, past, present and future,” he says, and listens to them echo him.</p>
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